LXXXIII. An Iron Fist...
"Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent."
- Isaac Asimov
"Hilom, for the tenth time, no," muttered the Cordian ambassador under his breath. His hand searched out for a glass full of a sirupy watermelon shake that his assistant kept refilling from an impossibly large jug which he carried splashing all around across the marble floors of the embassy. Large portraits hung around the walls, displaying the martial prowess of this ambassador's predecessors, all wearing the customary white and red tunic and the plasteel gladium sword. The implacable faces seemed to all be staring at the real-life one sitting in the middle of the room. A drop of sweat glistened on his bald forehead.
"Keli, you know this is good for your country," insisted Commissioner Hilom, pleading, "and good for mine too, may I add."
The ambassador's gaze shifted to the child-like Miles Teg, who stood transfixed in front of them. "Bashar?"
The Bashar's eyes finally moved. "I take it that you don't like our spice melange anymore, ambassador?"
"I do," the ambassador replied without shame, "but it won't buy my life back when the consuls remove me from my post for letting go of a strategic advantage."
"What advantage?" Teg asked. "Both you and the Tailarons preside over a half of the planet under the pretext of providing security to your transplants, and in violation of Delphyne's sovereignty. It remains convenient for you both to pretend we are still fully independent, as a way to look good with your respective allies."
"Here you are asking me to send my soldiers back and to concede territory."
"You gain three-way ceasefire. Establishing a military free-zone that is safeguarded by all three nations, save for small enclaves in the one city of Lat where you will be able to keep your police force."
"In my book, that's a retreat, Bashar."
"For a war you have not fought yet?" complained Hilom, "and we are granting your colonists treatment under Cordian law, and not ours, wherever they have installed themselves on the planet, "while a buffer zone will be advantageous to you as you have not had the upper hand in the recent skirmishes we saw you had with the Tailaron guerrilla fighters."
"Something tells me your Bashar here knows exactly how he is sacking me."
"Keli, if I may..." Teg intervened.
"It's Ambassador for you, Bashar."
"If I may, Ambassador... we are also prepared to strike a private deal with you, continuing to supply your extended family group, your gens, with the funds and spice required to boost your influence in Cordia. You could be the next consul."
"Enough of the thing!" the ambassador slammed a hand on the desk. "This melange, this cinnamon-smelling substance leaves a scent behind, and already the quaestors are looking to follow its trail. I need legitimate funds, not spice. I thought the spice would make me rich..."
"And it did, ambassador!" Teg protested.
"...and weak at the same time. This bribe comes in a currency that causes people to raise too many questions when it changes hands. It evokes doom. And no doubt you will give me more melange, or possibly start doing the same with the Tailaron. I warn you, they will not be as accommodating as I am, and in fact they will launch a full scale invasion as soon as this fact is known."
"The fact is already known, Ambassador," Teg revealed. "The Tailarons have attacked us covertly to try and capture our spice stash - and failed."
"Who told them?" the ambassador was livid.
"Ask your informants."
"Then why have they not invaded yet?"
"Maybe the way their zombie soldiers died gave them pause," Teg concluded.
"Nevertheless, I won't sign this deal."
The Bashar casually stood up and turned to the door, observing: "I am curious."
"What about?" asked Keli.
"You are a very, very skilled and determined negotiator, ambassador. But since we don't have an agreement..."
"And you bet we don't," the other grunted.
"Then, I am curious as to how you will react to our plan B. Our only course of action will be to broadcast to the universe that this is the planet where we produce the spice melange that has been flooding the markets as of late. Going in the open. Good afternoon."
And not waiting another moment, he took the door and fled the room.
"Hilom," the ambassador grabbed the former Commissioner's hand.
"I don't have control over this, Keli. And where is Eilanna, who could advise you? I have not seen her recently."
A dark cloud came over the ambassador. "She only left a message. You know the contract gives her the right to disappear on me when her Order calls."
"I can make inquiries."
"I have my own intelligence, thanks." He paused. "So are you still Commissioner?"
"Yes, but I defer to the Bashar on foreign policy," he admitted meekly.
The ambassador raised his voice: "Hilom, help me stop the Bashar. Stop him. If the universe learns about the melange and where it comes from, it will be your end as well as mine. If the source of the melange becomes widely known before I can cover my tracks, I will be accused of corruption, and me and my family will be publicly taken down in front of the Senate."
"The bribes? Is that what you are concerned about, friend?"
"Friend? Friend! Come on, Hilom, where is the spice really coming from? At the beginning I thought you'd fool me with an imitation good enough to be traded. Dur knows how long ago anybody has seen the real thing. But I had experts - expensive ones - analyze it and they tell me it's authentic. If I knew where you got it, then I could create a plausible story..."
"I will spare you the attempt. I will not be disintermediated, worse, shamed!, by revealing the source. But while you fret about your political career, let me tell you about something. Do you know what I am concerned about? The all-out war that will ignite on this planet when you and your Tailaron nemesis decide they want sole control of our spice reserves..."
"Sources? Reserve? You keep changing words, Hilom. Why can't you tell me plainly?" The ambassador raised his head to look at his friend straight in his eyes. "Tell me about this source."
"I can only say, and I say this to you since the Bashar is no longer in the room, that if word came about as to what we on Delphyne have our hands on, it will cause a war so large in scale that nothing, not Cordia nor Tailar will emerge alive from it!"
"And your Bashar is going to casually tell the universe that..."
'...that we have sandworms? Heaven save us!' Hilom thought but refrained from saying. "We are done here and I mean it!" shouted Hilom, and it went for the door.
"Oh stop and sit back down, Hilom!" the ambassador prayed.
"Keli?" the former Commissioner turned his head but did not backtrack.
"Yes?"
"You have until the end of day before we go public. If you don't accept our very rich agreement, to be ratified tomorrow night after our formal dinner, I can assure you your new replacement will. He will toast with me and Miles Teg while you rot in a Cordian prison."
"You won't dare risk your entire planet for this! This is not the Hilom I know!"
"The Hilom you know! This planet is about to be destroyed by the Tailarons and Cordians armies who are ready to fight for a piece of its smoldering ruins. What do we have to lose?"
Outside the building, the former Commissioner Hilom joined Miles Teg in the armored ground car that had been waiting by the street.
Teg looked at Hilom, expectantly.
"You were right. It worked," Hilom whispered.
"Thank you for helping me, Hilom."
"It's my planet after all. And nothing I said was a lie."
"Indeed. I may be unsavory, but the reality is that the two of us together can save Delphyne."
"One down, one more to go," the Commissioner replied gloomily.